


fire under ice

by TooManyGaysTooLittleTime



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Eventual Daenerys Targaryen/Ygritte, F/F, Slow Burn, by god i’ll get this ship content, welcome to my crackship rarepair hell
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-13
Updated: 2020-06-26
Packaged: 2021-03-03 20:28:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,151
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24681565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TooManyGaysTooLittleTime/pseuds/TooManyGaysTooLittleTime
Summary: au where dany and ygritte actually meet and fall in lovecurrently on hiatus, will be edited & rewritten with bonus content!!
Relationships: Daenerys Targaryen/Ygritte
Comments: 14
Kudos: 3





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> you’ve heard of bashing the female character to make an m/m ship look good... now experience sidelining the male character to make an f/f ship look good
> 
> also: yes i did have to include all of tormund’s titles in the character tags so what about it

**The Wall**

Jon Snow’s breath comes out of his mouth as fog, which floats over the tops of the heads of those in the Night’s Watch. 

The wildlings are massing in the distance, the great bulk of their folk near invisible against the snowy landscape due to their furs. Jon himself is cloaked in black fur, camouflaged against the darkness of the night. 

He spares a few thoughts for Ygritte as he looks out over Beyond the Wall, thinking of the way she had been, coming into his life like wildfire and burning him like wildfire, too. 

He doesn’t know how he feels about her anymore. She is the enemy now, surely. Yet she had shown him his first true love and taught him the ways of making love— _fucking_ , she would have called it, with a wry laugh. 

So Jon Snow watches the Wall, and does not think about Ygritte. 

**The Summer Sea**

Daenerys feels the rock of the boards under her legs, and it swings her body against the rail of the ship. She holds onto it tightly, laughing joyously.

Dany has not laughed for a long while, yet with the knowledge of Westeros on the horizon and her throne awaiting her, she finds that it becomes easier and easier to let herself go, let herself be happy. 

She does not know if the euphoria at setting sail at last will continue, nor if her campaign for the Iron Throne will be successful, but for now at least, she is happy. 

**Beyond the Wall**

Ygritte rubs her hands together in front of the fire, attempting to bring warmth to them. The ground under her is frozen and uncomfortable even with the furs she sits upon. 

Tormund watches her, amused. “Missing t’ crow t’ warm you?” he jokes.

Ygritte’s mouth sullens. “He was cold when I lay with him.”

Tormund is too full up on mead to pay much attention to the way that her gaze hardens and she curls up into herself with the singular aim of getting warm. “If yer needin’ warmin’, little spearwife, there ain’t many who would.”

Ygritte uses a frosted over stick to prod at the fire. “Don’t need it.”

Tormund seems to realise that she does not wish to talk of the crow, and instead he cuffs her on the shoulder and asks her, “Want to hear of the time I came upon two mating deer and decided to join them?”

“Bullshit,” Ygritte says immediately, but it is accompanied by a smile. 

“Aye, bullshit it may be, but I can spin a yarn, can’t I, spearwife?”

“Better than any in the songs,” Ygritte looks up from her poking at the fire, and discards the stick. “Dirtier, for one.”

Tormund’s laughter can be heard all the way to Castle Black. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The wildlings and the Night Watch prepare for battle while Daenerys lands in an unexpected place.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im sorry this came out so late! i swear i meant to have it out earlier but half my work got deleted unfortunately

**The Summer Sea**

Daenerys is in the first mate’s chambers when the storm hits. She is jolted from sleep as the ship rocks violently, and clutches at the layers of blankets in a futile attempt to make it go away.

She is not a child anymore, though, and she knows better by the time she pulls herself up in time for the boat to execute another long sway.

Outside, she hears distant yelling and sees the figures of dark, rain-lashed sailors hurrying about. She steadies herself on the bedrail against the strong movements of the boat underneath her. Objects slide about as the rain pounds down upon the deck above her.

Dany wonders if dragons can survive rain; the issue has never come up in Essos, but the closer they get to Westeros, the more concerns she realises she has. She comforts herself with the knowledge that if the dragons of her Targaryen ancestors were able to weather storms, then her own dragons could, as well.

Sleep seems useless with how much Dany worries, and the amount of violent rocking means that even if she could, she would be unable to fall asleep. Instead, she lies on her back as the ship sways in the water, and prays to the gods that she knows for her dragons to survive. 

**Beyond the Wall**

Dawn comes frosty and chilly, and Ygritte stomps her feet on the ground to keep them warm as she checks the twine wrapping the spearhead to the shaft. Once she is satisfied, she moves into position next to Tormund, being one of the few warriors to be prepared for the assault on the Wall early.

“Yer alright, spearwife?” Tormund asks, patting her on her shoulder in what he considers a gentle touch. (It feels like an avalanche falling upon her, but Ygritte does not tell him that out of respect.) 

“Aye,” Ygritte agrees, her words turning into mist as they exit her mouth. She shivers inadvertently as her gaze falls upon the intimidating black face of the Wall. “Think t’ crow t’at ran from me’ll be there?”

“The turncloak. Aye, I’d bet on it.”

“You bet on everythin’,” Ygritte teases, eyes scanning the top of the Wall for the figures of crows. From beside her, Tormund lets out a large roll of laughter, like thunder.

“Aye, that I do, spearwife.” He shifts in position as the wildlings begin to awaken, fill out their ranks. Among them are old crones and strapping young lads alike, hobbling old men and fierce spearwives. Ygritte feels far more kinship with them as she awaits the blast of Tormund’s horn to signal the attack than she had ever felt with the crow.

**The Wall**

The sound of the wildling horn makes Jon’s bones shiver in his body, resounds deep into his core. He knew it was coming. He knew. And yet now the time has arrived, he cannot seem to stop the shake of his hands as he fits a quarrel into the crossbow, sets his sights upon the stretch of bare lane in front of the Wall.

He is accompanied by only straw dummies upon his tower, lonely except for the company of his arrows and his thoughts. Ghost is chained up in his stall, growling and ready to be released upon the wildlings. Jon had not liked the idea at first, but he had been forced to acquiesce.

Pulling his gaze away from the base of Castle Black, where Ghost’s howls seem to float up to his ears, he sees the first wave of wilding attackers, sees bright red hair.

He falters at first. Hesitates to let the quarrel fly.

 _Turncloak_.

His first shot embeds itself into the ice, but that does not matter, for he is moving, fitting a second quarrel in, taking aim—

 _There_. 

A wildling is felled, its body falling flat upon the ice. Jon feels nothing as he loads a third. And a fourth. And a fifth.

He loses his touch with reality, his senses reduced to only the wildlings running at the Wall and the thrum of his crossbow. He fades away.

A pressure behind him, on his back and shoulders, and Jon Snow falls.

**The East Coast of Westeros**

“ _Dracarys!_ ” Daenerys calls, scrambling out and up onto the deck. “ _Dracarys, dracarys, dracarys!_ ”

She feels powerful wingbeats move the air, and relief fills her as the shapes of her dragons emerge from the sky. It is only after they land that she looks around, sees where they are. 

She stumbles backwards, back landing against the rail of the ship. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The battle for the Wall has begun. Fate seems to have turned against the wildlings...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> guess whose back and who still loves danygritte as much as ever!

**The East Coast of Westeros**

Dany feels her skin chill as she disembarks. Her handmaidens wrap soft silks around her to ease her shivers, and she smiles gratefully.

“This is not Dragonstone,” she notes, talking to no single soul in particular, but Jorah responds, “No, this is the North.” Dany turns to him, seeing the conflicting emotions upon his brow. Were she another, gentler woman, she might have soothed him with her touch, run her fingers over his forehead and through his hair. Yet she is the queen of Westeros, and gentleness is not in her nature. Instead, she asks, “What am I to do?”

Rather than speaking, Jorah roughly takes her arm and drags her aside. Stifling a cry of protest, her gaze flicks up to the man beside her. His hand, thickly furred with dark hair, is lifted to point out the great, black shape of the Wall, and he whispers, his voice a gruff raps of sandpaper upon wood, “I was supposed to be a man of the Night’s Watch, but I fled instead. We can’t count on them for allyship.”

Dany nods, slowly. “Then whom?” Her eyes flick around the port, scanning the faces of those moving around it.

Jorah lets out a long sigh, puffing breath into the air. “Barely anyone, my lady. The people of the North have no love for Targaryens any longer, and the Night’s Watch are sworn to the kingdoms, not the ruler.”

 _Not to mention that you took away any chance of us finding shelter with them_ , Dany nearly says, but presses her lips back together when she sees a port official coming towards them. Feigning dizziness, she sways towards Jorah, letting herself fall into his already-open arms. “I’m your wife, and I’m under a fainting spell,” she says, taking a quick gasp of air before pushing her face into Jorah’s mailed chest. He seems to understand, tucking her into his side before facing the official.

“State your business!” the official says. His voice is young, reedy, and quavers at Jorah’s scowl.

“My wife is enduring a fainting spell,” he says, one large hand cupped against the back of her hair. “She needs to go to a bed, preferably in a warm and well-furnished inn.”

Quick footsteps across the boards inform Dany that the official—barely a man, really—had left, presumably to find the inn. She lifts her head from Jorah’s side and her eyes move to his face. “Did it work?”

He nods, shortly. “He seemed convinced. But we won’t be able to stay.” 

Dany understands: the dragons are sure to give her away, as are the Dothraki who were also upon the ship. “One night, only, then...” She breaks off, unsure of her next moves. “Oh, why couldn’t we have landed at Dragonstone?” she sighs, wrapping her silks around her body to stave off the cold.

Jorah simply shrugs. “We could follow the Wall. It is said that Stannis Baratheon has set up there, and that he is an opponent to your claim upon the throne. There may be an opportunity to depose of him.”

Dany twines her fingers into her silks, thinking as she twists them about, then looks up. “It seems to be the best possible way that we have.”

“We shall stay a night, then,” Jorah decides “before setting off to follow the Wall.”

Dany nods, shivering. 

**The Battle of Castle Black**

Arrows fly around Ygritte, some grazing her strands of red hair when she ducks, some narrowly missing her, and several going awry at the last moment. “Cowards, the lot of ‘em,” she mutters, running towards Castle Black’s battlements. At the base of the gate, several groups of wildlings have banded together to attempt to toss rope ladders over the battlements. Ygritte bends down to avoid an arrow, then runs towards a group. She is passed a knot of rope immediately, and dropping her spear, helps to lift the rope ladder and throw it towards the battlements. It catches on a crenel, and she lets out a loud cheer of excitement with the rest of them. The smallest of the group (a child of around one-and-ten winters) is pushed towards its base, and helped onto the ladder by two burly Free Folk. The child ascends quickly, hands and feet scrambling for purchase at the top before sliding over the battlements. A tug from the top of the ladder causes a second cheer from the assorted wildlings, and several more begin to scramble up the ladder. Ygritte picks her spear up and prepares to ascend, shucking her hood as the arrows were unable to reach her at the base of the gate. Her long red hair waves freely in the wind, and she hopes that the turncloak sees it from all the way above her. She hopes that he knows her for the one that will have no mercy in store for him.

**Castle Black**

Jon loads another arrow, and as he does, sees the wildling child climbing over the battlements. His breath catches in his throat as he sees a second following, then a third, who descend upon the guards of Castle Black’s gates with spear and ax, flint pushing through mail and a blade embedding itself in a blonde head. 

He forgets to pull the string taut as he sees a mane of wild red hair, a mane he’s run his fingers through with something approaching love: hair that he would know anywhere. 

“Ygritte,” he whispers, although he does not know why he does. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i PROMISE you, our gals WILL meet soon.

**Author's Note:**

> join me in rarepair hell!
> 
> this first chapter is short but it’s setting up for something big in the next chapter so stay tuned!


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